Judgement Day
by MisunderstoodSociopath
Summary: After the whole deal with Azalel, Sam never thought he would see John again. Imagine his surprise when John shows up again, alive and well. And then to see who's watching over him... SUMMARIES SUCK JUST READ IT
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first Supernatural fic ever so yay! Hopefully it will be good! For those of you who just freaked out because I said first fic COME BACK I HAVE ACTUALLY WRITTEN OTHER STUFF. Ok now we got that clear...I really like constructive criticism so please critique all you want just please do not be all like hating cos I do what I want and you can't judge me! ...unless it's really bad then please tell me! **

**Ok I'll stop ranting now, hope you like it! Please R&amp;R!**

**PROLOGUE**

_And once the storm is over, you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about._

_-Haruki Murakami_

_**THEN**_

John fell asleep in Afghanistan. It was a good sleep; he hadn't closed his eyes in ages. He knew being an Army Doctor would be endearing, but he was beat to the ground. he was helping people, though, and that's what John wanted to be doing.

After what seemed like years, John slowly woke. He felt extremely well rested, which was the first bad sign. _The army doesn't sleep in. _John cleared the sleep from his eyes and sat up in his cot.

...or what should have been his cot. Instead, John was sitting in a heaping pile of dirt. John felt his pulse rise, and he tried to remain calm. _Was I captured? No, there's no way I could've slept through an attack. _

_Then where am I?_

John stood up, all his senses on red alert. He checked his belt for any supplies; the only thing he had left was a flashlight and his army issued pocket knife. _Just perfect, _he thought bitterly.

John heard shuffling from around the corner, as if someone was walking by. He opened his knife, feeling rather underprepared, and stepped slowly and purposefully, moving his gaze every few seconds. He was in an old town, that much was obvious. From the slapdash houses and the silent roads, it looked like an old Western movie. _Which is weird, because then I would be in...America. _

The shuffling continued, and John followed the sound out to the main road. That's when he saw them.

There were two men; one tall and muscular but lean, the other short and much less intimidating. Kind of broken...scared, actually.

The tall man spotted John. "Hey!" He shouted, breaking into a fast jog. His long brown hair flapped up and down as he ran, and the other man followed slowly. They both stopped a meter or so away.

"It's ok." The tall man said, holding his hands out peacefully when he saw John's knife. "We're not going to hurt you."

_He's a bloody American! What in the blazes is going on? _"How do I know that?" John answered testily.

"Because we're in the same boat you are." The tall man replied. John furrowed his brow. The tall man pressed on. "You started getting really bad headaches about a year ago? At first you thought it was just a thing, but now you can do things. Things that shouldn't be possible."

"...how the _hell _did you know about that?" John asked shakily, his voice dangerously low. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sam, this is Andy. We're like you. We have...special gifts."

John snorted, but relaxed. "I wouldn't call it a gift. More like a curse."

Everything that Sam had said was right, amazingly. The headaches had started last year. John had thought it was just the stress of all the medical exams and what not, but then the visions and nightmares had started. John had seen a man with yellow eyes standing over his crib as a child, bleeding into his mouth and smiling when the blood slid down his lips and into his throat. "You will lead them all, Johnny. No matter what I say, you will lead them."

If John hadn't been terrified enough from that, when the powers came he was an absolute wreck.

He could make people...better. He didn't know how else to describe it. If he said healing then it just sounded like he was a superhero, which he definitely was not. All he had to do was touch them, and they were suddenly all better.

Ok, maybe that did sound a little superhero-esque, but, being a doctor, that's all John had ever wanted to do. It was like a life long dream come true.

John figured things like that didn't just happened without repercussions, so he only did it when it was absolutely necessary. Which did happen relatively often, but life went on.

Until...

_BEEP BEEP BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_

_John took hair hands off the man in shock. The beeping accelerated, and John called desperately for help, but deep inside he knew it was too late. _

_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP_

They asked him what happened. John didn't really know how to respond. _Oh yeah, I can heal people with my hands but I accidentally killed him. Sorry._

_I killed him. _

He had tried to make himself feel better about it. _He was already dead, you had to try. _It didn't work. All it did was harden him.

Sam grunted and smiled grimly, bringing John back to the real world. "Yeah, well it seems we're all stuck with it. What's your name?"

"John, err, John Watson. How did I get here?"

Sam sighed. "That's what we're trying to figure out. They must have taken us while we were sleeping."

John laughed cynically. "No no no no no, you don't understand. I was in bloody _Afghanistan _when I fell asleep.

Andy had begun to shake. "Sam, I'm freaking out. We're all gonna die, oh my God..."

"Woah, woah, Andy, it's ok." Sam gripped Andy's shoulders tightly. "We're all gonna get out of this, ok? All of us."

John heard a raspy laugh from behind him, and he whirled around. "You."

The yellow eyed man smiled. "Do you like this, John?" He gestured around to the old town. "I've set up a little puzzle for you. Solve it, and you might just live a little longer than the rest."

John turned to Sam and Andy for support, but they seemed to be frozen. "Why are you doing this?" John demanded.

"Because I need a leader, John. And all of you can't be leaders." The yellow eyed man smiled. "You had better watch yourself, Johnny. I thought throwing you in with this lot would be a nice final touch, seeing what happened in London...but anyhow, these ones..." He chuckled, "I like this group. They're all so...bloodthirsty. Well, not all of them, but you'll see that soon enough. And you know what? You're not my favorite, not by a long shot. But you could be."

"What the devil are you talking about?" John asked, angry that he was in this situation and none of his questions were being answered.

"What?" Sam looked at John strangely. The yellow eyed man was gone, and Sam and Andy were giving him weird looks.

"Nothing. Just thinking." John shook his head. _What did he mean, with what happened in London? And favorites? Favorite for what? _John had a horrible idea, but he pushed it down. He didn't like that idea at all.

"Anyone have any idea where we are?" Andy asked, breaking the silence.

"I've got an idea..." Sam replied, walking down the road to further investigate, his eyes never leaving John.

LINE BREAK

They found Ava banging on the door of a small building, screaming for someone to help her. Apparently she'd been locked in there, for a little while anyway. As Sam (he apparently knew this girl) and Ava exchanged a few words, John stared at her. He didn't like her, not one bit. Something about her was off; he felt it in his gut. Maybe it was something about her wide eyes and scared face that didn't fit. John just couldn't place his finger on it.

"Five months? How can I not remember? My husband must be worried sick!"

John felt his stomach drop. _Ohhhh, that was a lie. She knows what happened those five months. _

Sam looked at her with his sad, dark eyes. "Ava...your husband's dead."

_And here's the big shocker!_

"W-what? Dead?! No, no..." Ava burst into tears.

John couldn't take it anymore. _Bloody ridiculous. _"Sam, may I speak with you? _Privately._"

Sam took his hand off Ava's shoulder and nodded, walking a little ways off and leaving Andy to comfort Ava. "What is it?" Sam asked, annoyed.

"She's bad news." John shook his head.

"Who, _Ava?_ She's a little shaken, I'll give you that, but-"

"That's not what I meant." John insisted, fingering his knife and looking over at Ava. "She's lying through her teeth."

Sam stopped and furrowed his brow at John. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm freaking Judge Dredd, I dunno!" John exploded. "Look, I've got a feeling, and normally when I have a feeling I'm not wrong."

Sam gave him a weird look. "Judge Dredd?"

John returned his weird look. "How do you not...right because I forgot, we're in bloody America." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, you obviously know more about what's going on than anyone else. So I would just like to know why I can kill people with my bloody hands!"

It hadn't taken John long to figure out the gift, just what it actually meant. After the accident, John did some research on all the people he had healed. All of them were class A, hoo-ah, all in or nothing kind of blokes; great soldiers with a clean heart.

The other one hadn't been so lucky. As far as John could tell, Ritcker Williams had been a shameless douche with debts up to the moon from playing too much poker and a habit for...breaking the indigenous women.

John didn't heal anyone after that.

He was literally the Judgement Bringer. John didn't like to say it like that, but as the weeks wore on, he began to see things, things about other people. He saw the truth, and, more importantly, the lies.

So saying he could kill people with his hands wasn't a lie; as far as he could tell, Ritcker was six feet under and staying there. But you had to be a poor bastard for it to actually happen.

John had raised his hands in anger when he had been talking, and they were only a foot away from Sam's face. Sam watched John with a sad look in his eyes, but didn't step back. "John...can we please talk about this later?" John scoffed, but Sam continued. "Ava and Andy, they're not used to this kind of thing." When John had raised his voice Ava and Andy had looked over in concern.

"And you are?" John retorted, shaking his head.

Sam nodded. "You're just gonna have to trust me."

John pursed his lips and stared at the ground. Sam hasn't been lying, but he was holding something back. He shook his head. "I'm not trusting anyone until I get answers."

LINE BREAK

John was the one to find Jake and Lily. To his surprise, Jake had been in Afghanistan, too. They both saluted each other and shared stories. Lily looked like she was about to puke, but she was trying her best to hide it. _I hope they're the last ones. I don't think I can take much more of this._

Then Sam, Ava, and Andy showed up. "Let me guess, you're all 23, you started getting really bad headaches about a year ago? And then you started doing things?" Jake and Lily nodded. "Damn it." Sam muttered.

"What the hell is going on?" Lily asked, panic creeping into her voice.

"The yellow eyed man." John sighed, just as Sam simultaneously said, "The yellow eyed demon."

"Hold on, demon?!" Jake exclaimed, as Sam exchanged glances with John.

"How did you know that?" Sam demanded, quickly closing the space between John and him.

"I saw him." John admitted snappishly.

"Where?" Sam's jaw set, his eyes cold and calculating. John's worst fear of what was going on here was coming into reality.

"How about you give some answers first?" John shot back.

"What did you mean, demons?" Lily asked.

Sam sighed. "There are monsters out there."

"Believe me, I know." John retorted.

"Not that kind of monster; not monsters of men. Real monsters."

Sam explained everything. Boy, it felt good to finally tell someone the truth, even if they all stared at him like he was crazy.

Except for John. Because he knew Sam was telling the truth.

"So this demon wants us? Why? Because we have demon blood in us?" Ava asked.

"Why don't you ask John." Sam turned his head, looking expectantly at the young army doctor. "He's the one who saw yellow eyes last. What exactly did he say to you, again? Oh, that's right, you haven't told us."

John grunted. "What he said didn't make any sense."

"Was he speaking in another language? Like Latin?" Sam quickly responded.

"No." John shook his head.

"Are you sure."

John gave him the look. "I'm a bloody doctor, I think I would know Latin when I hear it." John signed. "He said something about a puzzle. And if I solved it, I would last longer."

That seemed to shut everyone up, so John continued. "He said he put me here, seeing what happened in London." John left out the part about this group being bloodthirsty, just because, you know, that might cause someone to...break cover.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake asked.

"I dunno, I haven't been home in a year or so." John shrugged, shifting uneasily. He didn't like all the attention. "He also told me to watch my back."

Lily scoffed.

"Because I wasn't his favorite." John let the words slip out of his mouth before he even thought what might happen when he said them. When he said those words aloud, he figured out the puzzle.

Sam blinked a few times and frowned. "That means..."

"That this is a game," John sighed, "and we're the chess pieces."

LINE BREAK

No one felt safe in the open road after that. They all moved into one of the houses, making camp, and looking for salt, of all things. Not food or water, salt. "It'll keep the demons at bay." Sam explained.

Sam saved Jake from an Apachi demon in the house next door. He had been looking for salt. They all went back to the house a bit flustered, especially Jake. Then they realized...

Lily was missing.

After an hour of searching, John found her. Hanging by her neck on the windmill. Ava was breathing heavily.

"She was talking about leaving." Ava whimpered. "She tried to leave and they killed her."

John wanted to slap that two-faced bitch right there, but at least part of what she had said was true. No one was getting out of here.

Andy decided he was going to try to reach Dean, Sam's brother. Apparently, Andy could make people see and do things whenever he wanted, which sounded pretty awesome to John. Compared to his gift anyway. Andy tried it, but he had no idea if it worked. So John decided.

"I'm leaving."

Everyone stopped.

"Are you crazy?!" Andy exclaimed.

"You saw what they did to Lily." Jake said.

"We have no idea if Andy's hoodoo magic got through, so someone needs to try and get help. We can't just give up and wait." John stalked out the door.

Sam was keeping watch on the front porch. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"To get help." John replied.

Sam sighed and stood up. "John-"

"-I'm going to get you guys out of this, ok? Just stay put." John interrupted Sam.

"Dean is coming." Sam said. "He can help."

"We don't know that for sure." John shook his head, walking down the stairs and on to the road.

Sam cocked his head. "You're stupid."

"But you're not gonna stop me." John responded.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I think someone else needs to die before they get it." Sam retorted sarcastically, looking up at the sky and scratching his shoulder. "I just don't know anymore. Go and get yourself killed, for all I care. Just don't haunt me, I warned you."

John stood quietly as Sam continued to look at the sky. _I could have been friends with him, _John thought, _if we weren't all cursed. _"Just...do me a favor, ok?"

Sam looked at John. "Are you giving me your last wish?"

John nearly laughed out loud, but then got serious again. "Maybe, I don't know. Just promise me...promise me you won't let yellow eyes turn you into something you're not."

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. "And watch out for Ava." John added. Sam sighed and looked around. "Please!" John coughed, correcting his attitude. "Please, trust me, there's something not right about her, just please, make sure she doesn't hurt anyone."

Sam examined John's face and saw how dead serious he was. Sam swallowed. "Ok."

John smiled. "Thanks." And turned to walk into the woods. He turned around one last time. "Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't die." John saluted him.

Sam grimley and hesitantly returned the salute. "Same to you."

Without another word, John walked into the woods.

Sam knew he would never see him again.

LINE BREAK

John moved quickly through the darkening forest, holding his flashlight with one hand and his pocket knife with the other. He knew the blade would be of little use, but it was silver coated, and Sam said that might work for a little while.

Although, Sam had been lying when he said that...

So basically he was relying on a knife the size of his middle finger that may or may not (most likely the latter) work against demons. _I am so screwed. But at least I can say I tried._

John heard a twig snap behind him. He whirled around, holding his knife close in case something decided to lash out at him. He waited, the only sound echoing through the wood his heavy breathing. "Who's there?"

"It's only me, John." Yellow eyes stepped out of the shadows, his hands out in a pacifying gesture. He then folded them behind his back. "You know, I'm disappointed. I would've hoped that since you were the one who figured out the puzzle, you wouldn't run out on me. I guess some show more promise than others."

"What do you _want_ from us?" John demanded, shaking with rage and hatred.

"Oh, Johnny-boy, you know what I want. I want you to kill them all."

"Why?!"

Yellow eyes scoffed. "You know, who was that little feisty one, Ava, was it?" John felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "She didn't ask questions. She just started cutting them down, one by one. Like taking candy from a baby."

_I knew it. I shouldn't have left them alone with her. I have to go back. _John set his jaw in anger, preparing to fight.

"She's going to kill everyone, you know." Yellow eyes smiled. "She's been on a roll. Five months. Longer than I expected anyone to last, quite frankly. But she's not my favorite, not even close. Little Sammy...wanted to save him till the end, just to make sure he would take the final step. He has so much potential..."

"Why are you telling me all this? I mean, you could just kill me here and now." John asked, at the same time his mind was shouting _he's lying he's lying he's lying. _Something was wrong with his powers, he couldn't tell if the yellow eyed man was lying or not.

"Tempting." Yellow eyes cocked his head and advanced towards John. John gripped his knife even tighter. "But I'm going to give you a choice."

"A choice?" John scoffed, caught off guard. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Yellow eyes walked right up to John, unfazed by John's knife. "Either I kill you right here, right now, or you go back in there and kill Ava."

John furrowed his brow as the yellow eyed man began to circle him. He could feel his hot breath against his ear. "Why Ava?"

"So you can take her place," The yellow eyed said, "Silly."

John sighed and yellow eyes came closer. "Kill or be killed, is that it, then?"

Yellow eyes shrugged, standing right in front of John. "But you have to admit, my way sounds sexier." He smiled. "So, do you have an answer?"

"I think so." John moved lightning fast and drove the knife deep into the Yellow eyed man's chest. "How about you go to hell, you sorry bastard."

Yellow eyes collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. John twisted the knife, and yellow eyes groped at John's hand. John smiled. _It actually worked. _

But then, yellow eyes began to laugh. He raised his head and grinned at John. John's eyes went wide. "Oh, shit."

Yellow eyes flung his hand to the side, and John was thrown against a tree ten meters away. He hit hard, his head cracking when it hit the solid wood. A warm trickle of blood trickled down John's neck, and he tried to move. Some invisible force was pinning him to the tree, and he groaned as pain blossomed from his ribs.

Yellow eyes stood up, slowly pulling the knife out of his chest. He wasn't even bleeding. _How was I so easily fooled? _"Really John, silver plating? If you had wanted to kill me you should have tried harder."

John grunted in agony. "At least I tried."

Yellow eyes shook his head. "You had so much potential, John. Hell, I was considering letting you lead London. The Judgement Bringer? Beyond my wildest dreams. It's a pity you didn't get to see London, though. Oh, the things you would've done. But never mind," Yellow eyes gave John a grin, "we can't get sentimental, now can we?"

And with one quick motion, he snapped John's neck.

LINE BREAK

Everything in John's world went black. He'd imagined getting your neck snapped would be painful, but really it was just CRACK and it was over. He knew he was dead, but what he couldn't figure out was why it was so dark. _I mean, there's gotta be a light at the end of the tunnel, right? _

And there it was. John could hardly look at it it was so bright. And then, it grabbed John by the shoulder.

"Hello, John."

"Wh-who are you?" John stammered.

The light was silent for a few moments, the. It spoke again, it's voice deep and strong. "My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord."

And then the light engulfed the world.

**A/N: and scene! I know that was a lot to take in all at once, but I wanted to get psychic camp done in one chap! Tell me what you think!**

**Oh, and one side note, Judge Dredd is a british superhero that basically can convict you out on the street if he feels like it. If you want more information, just go to Wikipedia, I'm too lazy to tell you.**

**PLEASE R&amp;R**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: hehehe...*grovels at your feet for forgiveness* IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I realize I kinda went off the map for a while, but shit happened and I needed a break! So, I am back for the time being! Go ahead and rejoice, I know you guys love me. THANKYOU TO MY REVIEWERS: Tris PhantomEvans, piglet7722, and PetrichorRaindrop! **

**YES IF YOU REVIEW YOU WILL GET A SHOUTOUT.**

**Chapter 1**

_Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? He. Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the wise cannot see all ends._

_\- J. R. R. Tolkien_

_**Now.**_

In some ways, Sherlock's death was worse than John's own.

John's death had been nearly painless, and he had been brought back. In that sense, it was definitely better. I mean, who wouldn't want to be alive?

But Sherlock...John had a feeling he wouldn't be coming back. Never once, in all of Sherlock's rants about things that the stupid people of the world didn't understand, had he mentioned demons, angels, ghosts, or anything of the sort. John was shocked that he knew something Sherlock didn't. Maybe if John had told him, he would be alive.

John hoped for some reason that he _would _come back.

"For a bloody idiot, you were the best man I ever knew." John whispered.

Sherlock looked down at the ground, then walked away.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

_**Then.**_

He woke up in his tent in Afghanistan, for real this time. Real cot, real everything. Not that his experience hadn't been real, which he still wasn't too sure about. It had felt real.

That day was normal. It seemed so weird, standing beside his fellow comrades, doing the same drills, yet knowing that he was so different. It was as if none of it had happened.

Until he came.

"We have a new recruit." Major Sholto said at supper that night. Everyone sat up straighter. "His name is Casen Tieler. He's with our special division."

That caused a bit of rustling. Transfers from special division didn't happen very often. "He'll be overseeing our medical division, working to become an army surgeon general. I've appointed Corporal Watson to be his guide around the camp for his first few days. I expect all of you to give him the respect he deserves. Lieutenant Tieler, you can come on out now."

And he stepped out. John nearly fell off the bench. Déjà vu and vertigo swept over him. He knew this man, Casen Tieler.

"Hello." Tieler said, a smile on his face. His voice was low and calculated, yet he couldn't have been more than thirty. John would know that voice anywhere. "Um, I'm excited to be working with you all." He laughed nervously.

John tuned the rest of what Casen Tieler said out, mostly because there was this buzzing in his head, but he did catch the last part. "I've heard great things about, er, Corporal Watson, and I'm looking forward to seeing what he does." He nodded in John's direction. John narrowed his eyes, but nodded back. Tieler didn't smile, and his stark blue eyes bored into John's.

After dinner John confronted him. "Tieler." Casen turned around.

"It's Casen, please."

"Right." John nodded. "Can I speak with you, for a moment? Alone?"

"I don't see why not." Casen shrugged and followed John around back the privy. John grabbed him by the lapel of his uniform and slammed him against the wall.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"

Casen blinked a few times. "John, please, calm down."

"You expect me to calm down when I see the person who may or may not have brought me back from the dead?"

"Just hear me out, please." Casen raised his hands. "I mean you no harm."

"Are you working with yellow eyes?" John demanded.

"What- no. John, I told you, I'm an angel of the Lord. I'm the one who raised you from perdition."

"Yeah, right."

"It is the truth."

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

Casen sighed. "With what you saw yesterday...I would think your whole position on the 'truth' would be a bit looser."

_So demons exist...why not Angels? That's your reasoning? ...although it does kind of make sense..._

"Well your name definitely is not Casen Tieler."

"Castiel." Castiel cleared his throat. "My name is Castiel."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

_**Now.**__ A few days after the Fall._

It was still all the rage on the news; every single channel, every single day. John couldn't watch the telly without being reminded of him. Then again, he was surrounded by Sherlock's old belongings. The skull was still on the mantel; the knife still stabbed through the dark wood, marking important papers; the yellow smiley face still grinning on the wall. Although, there was something satisfying about watching the programs and knowing that they were all lies.

"Of course, you've all heard the word on the block: private detective Sherlock Holmes, a growing Internet crime solving sensation over the past few years, recently committed suicide."

"Bloody consulting detective." John rolled his eyes at the telly, taking another swig out of his already half empty glass. He didn't know why he watched it; something down inside made him want to relive it over and over again.

"But before we get to our head story, a preview of what's to come tonight."

_They're not going straight to Sherlock? My God, either they're completely stupid or brilliant._

"First, we'll head over to America to see their top story: acclaimed bank robbers Sam and Dean Winchester, presumed dead, are back and Number 1 on the FBI Most Wanted list."

John spit his drink all over the carpet. "Holy fuck!"

"MIND YOUR LANGUAGE, John Watson!" Mrs. Hudson came rushing up the stairs, looking rather annoyed and flustered. "Have you got the telly on again? John, it's not good for you to keep on watching this..."

"Mrs. Hudson, stop talking." John sat his drink down next to his arm chair and turned the volume up. Mrs. Hudson stalked into the kitchenette, flustered and annoyed.

"Brothers Sam and Dean supposedly died in a tragic helicopter explosion while being transferred to a high security prison. But that's not stopping them from running rampant across the Midwest, committing mass murders and filming themselves, leaving the footage for the FBI."

A video had come up that showed Sam and supposedly his brother Dean gunning down a mass of people in a bank vault. John's mouth was wide open, his head spinning._ Holy shit. "I do not need this right now..."_ He whispered under his breath.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, cautiously stealing his glass and taking it into the still messy kitchen.

"More to come later..." The reporter continued, but John ignored it. "Mrs. Hudson, where's my phone?"

Considering that John hadn't picked up the phone in days, Mrs. Hudson hurried to hand it over.

"Lestrade." John said breathlessly as soon as the DI picked up.

"John, it's good to hear from you!" Lestrade sounded shocked. "How you holding up?"

"I don't want to talk about Sher-just, just, have you been watching the telly?"

Lestrade paused. "Yeah, why?"

"Sam and Dean Winchester."

"What about them?"

"I know them."

John heard spitting at the other end. "John, you made me spill my coffee, you've got to be bloody joking."

"I met Sam a few years back, and I never really met Dean, but I spent a day with Sam. This just doesn't sound right."

John could almost hear Lestrade thinking. "So you're acquainted with the FBI's Most Wanted?"

John shrugged. "I'm just as surprised as you are."

"John, you realize they haven't been able to get any information about them. Literally anyone who was ever a friend, ever talked with them, is dead or we don't know their real names because they used aliases."

John rubbed his nose. "If I had known that, I would've told you earlier."

"They're gonna want you in."

"I'm not exactly in the best shape right now, Greg. Besides, I don't think anyone trusts me anyway. After..."

"So what do you want me to do? Mycroft has specifically asked me to let him know if anything comes up."

_Why the hell would Mycroft be concerned about something like this? _"Then don't. I'll be out of the country by the time he figures out."

"Hold on, out of the country? You are not going to fly out there."

"Greg, I have this feeling, ok? Something isn't right here."

"You bet something isn't right; you are not going to America, where the most dangerous men in the country may or may not want to shoot you dead, to try and talks with ced convicts. Absolutely not."

"Who died and made you my mother?"

"SHEDLOCK DID!"

There was silence on both ends of the line. Lestrade spoke first. "I-I'm sorry, it's just that if you die because of one of my mistakes...well, Sherlock will have time to prepare a special hell for me."

John nodded slowly. _Why did I make this phone call? _"I just need you to cover me for a day or so, that's it."

Lestrade sighed. "John, I just can't. I-"

John hung up. "Mrs. Hudson!"

"You don't have to shout, good Lord!"

"I'm going on a vacation."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed, looking at the laptop. "I think Sam knows this person."

Deal scoffed. "He's alive?"

Sam nodded and started typing furiously. "Thank God one of them has a brain."

Dean laughed again. "I wanna take a spin at Sammy for our next attack."

Sam shrugged. "Look at this! Sam remembers him from...Azazel."

"Wait, one of the psychic kids?" Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder to look at the article he had pulled up. It was about some detective, but someone named John Watson was quoted all over it. "I thought all of them but Sam died."

Sam raised his eyebrows, deep in thought. "Apparently not. Sam appeared to respect him greatly; was almost friendly."

"Can you find him?" Dean was getting excited.

"I thought we were following the plan." Sam said.

Dean started pacing. "We could lure them out. They still have no idea what our pattern is or where we are."

Sam looked doubtfully at the laptop. "I can try."

After a few minutes of typing and Dean's jumpy stalking, Sam sat up. "This could be easier than we expected."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"He lives in London-"

Dean groaned.

"-but he just booked a flight to Dulles to connect to Denver." Sam smirked.

Dean smiled. "Looks like we caught his attention, too."

"Let's pay him a visit."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Hey, Dean?" Sam had his face buried in the screen of his laptop.

"Shoot." Dean replied.

"Do you remember anyone named John Watson?" Sam turned to Dean, a puzzled look on his face.

Dean thought for a moment. "No, why?"

"I don't know, I can't seem to get this thing out of my head." Sam turned his laptop around so Dean could see the screen. Dean walked over and bent over the table.

"This world famous detective, apparently Einstein smart, just committed suicide because he was a fake or something. This whole article they keep mentioning his partner John Watson and I can't get the name out of my head."

"Why are you even reading this?" Dean shook his head and gestured to the laptop. "We have bigger issues than some British nut job jumping off a building."

Sam turned the laptop back towards him and shook his head. "Yeah..."

He typed on his laptop for a couple more minutes while Dean packed his bag. Then, Sam's face changed. "Uh, Dean?"

"What, did we kill someone again?"

"John Watson was one of Azazel's psychics." Sam replied, partially in triumph and partially in dismay.

Dean furrowed his brow. "Wait, he was part of your little demon buddy slaughter camp?"

"I thought he died. He never came back from those woods." Sam pursed his lips. "But then again, he never showed up either."

"I thought all of you guys killed each other." Dean put out.

"We did." Sam contemplated. "Dean, this is huge. Maybe John is still out there, fighting like us? Who knows, maybe there are leviathan in England, too. Wouldn't surprise me."

"Just hold on a second, Sam." Dean reasoned. "We don't know what John did to get out of that situation. The way you tell it, only one person was getting out of that place alive. Maybe he allied himself with Azazel."

Sam shook his head. "He wouldn't do that."

"And you're positive about that? C'mon Sam, you met this guy once for a day."

"He was a good man, Dean. He went to go get help."

"Was this before or after the girl was hung from the windmill?" Dean cocked his head.

"It doesn't matter, Dean." Sam started typing furiously on his laptop. It took him a while, but he finally found what he was looking for. "I hacked into Interpol's cell phone tracking system. Apparently he's in...Heathrow." Sam looked up at Dean. "Do you know what this means?"

"That you're stalking some dude you met once to see where he is?"

"He's taking a flight from Heathrow, Dean. Where do you think he's going?"

Dean realized what Sam meant. "He heard about our killing spree."

Sam slammed the laptop shut and started throwing clothes in his bag. "And he's coming to figure out what the hell is going on." Sam rushed out the door, and Dean muttered under his breath but followed him.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

John had just barely stepped off the plane when his mobile started beeping like crazy. John shook his head and looked down. "Mycroft..."

But it wasn't Mycroft.

Five missed calls (and five voicemails) from an unknown number, and a few texts.

JOHN CALL ME

-SAM

JOHN THIS IS IMPORTANT

-SAM

JOHN YOU NEED TO GO HOME NOW

-SAM

That last one made John wrinkle his forehead. It was weird enough that someone named Sam was texting him, but even if it was SAM texting him, then why would he tell John to go home?

_Is it weird enough to call him...? He might've been working with yellow eyes. The only way we were getting out of that was if we helped yellow eyes with his plan. But Cas said he was dead. _

John stared at the screen, blocking the walkway. He shook his head and slipped it in his pocket. "Sorry, Sam."

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Do you think Sam and Dean found out?"

Dean shrugged. "I think they've got their hands full as it is; it could've slipped under their radar."

Sam chuckled, and Dean continued to look out the window. "Is that him?" Dean said suddenly, gently turning his head towards Sam.

Sam looked around, then laid eyes on John Watson. "Yes."

They watched him for a minute as he walked down the pavement, and then his hand went up.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"He should've landed by now." Sam sighed.

"If he was on the flight that he should've been on, and if he didn't just decide to take a stroll to Heathrow." Dean shook his head. "We're still two hours away."

"We need to go faster." Sam prompted, shifting agitatedly in his seat.

Dean, instead of speeding up, pulled over.

"What are you doing?" Sam demanded.

"Look," Dean said, turning towards Sam, "I know that you want to make sure this John is safe and whatnot, but don't you think this is a little over the top?" Sam scoffed. "Sammy, just listen to me for a second!"

"Dean, you didn't know him!"

"Oh, so you think that since you met him for 24 hours you can make a judgement on his character?"

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed. Dean shook his head.

"Did it ever occur to you that this could be a trap?" Sam pursed his lips. "C'mon, don't you think it sounds a little fishy? The leviathan have our meat sacks, they might as well have our memories, who's to say they didn't just find this in your memories?"

"Because I know, Dean, that's why." Sam said. He sighed. "I'm gonna try calling him again."

"We don't even know if that's his number." Dean complained.

Sam gave him a look and Dean hit the steering wheel in defeat. The phone rang three times and Sam was about to hang up, but then it picked up.

"...'Ello?"

Sam let out a huge breath. "John, is that you?"

"...who is this?" John replied warily.

"It's Sam, Sam Winchester. Remember, we met a few years back."

"I remember." John replied tensely. "Why are you killing people?"

Sam pinched his nose and continued. "I'm not; neither of us are. It's a long story."

"Hold on one second." John said.

Sam listened very closely.

_"Yeah, I'm trying to get to D.C., do you go that far?"_

"_We go as far as you want buddy."_

The connection was a little staticky, but Sam knew that voice anywhere.

Sam stopped dead. "JOHN? JOHN LISTEN TO ME YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW! JOHN!" Sam turned to Dean. "DRIVE."

Dean didn't hesitate. He shifted the Impala into gear and sped off.

"JOHN CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yeah, you don't need to shout...I'm gonna need to call you back, Sam. I need to pay this cabbie, God bless him."

"That's not-"

But John had already hung up.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

John tucked his mobile in his pocket. "Sorry about that; an old friend."

"No, I understand the feeling." The driver said as John got into the backseat.

"This is kind of unconventional, isn't it? I didn't know that taxis could have two drivers."

"He's in training." The driver replied, looking over at the passenger seat. John hadn't got a great glimpse at this cabbie in training, he was partially turned away.

"What's your names, then?"

"I'm Dean." The driver chuckled, and the soft click of car doors locking resounded like a gunshot.

John's stomach dropped.

"And you know who I am." Sam turned around, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

**A/N: Don't you just love cliffhangers? *wicked grin* see you guys at some point! Please read and review and if I get a lot of reviews I will be tempted to update sooner! Please forgive me I am beta-less today!**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I apologize guys. This was supposed to get updated like, ten billion years ago, and I swear to God I uploaded it, but it must not have come through. Really sorry about that. But, I do have Chapter 3 ready and Chapter 4 close behind, so updates should be very fast. PLease bear with me, however, because I'm about to get on a plane and I don't want to have to pay for WiFi... ;)**

**Enjoy**

Beneath our clothes, our reputations, our pretensions, beneath our religion or lock of it, we are all vulnerable to the storm without and to the storm within.

-Frederick Buechner

_**Then.**_

"All of that is real?"

Cas sighed and tapped his feet on the ground. They were sitting side by side outside the tent, far away from everyone else. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"That is a grotesque understatement." John laughed, "I could go for a pint or two now."

Cas frowned. "I do not require sustenance."

"I wasn't talking about you." John retorted.

Cas grunted, and maybe even smiled just a bit.

"Tell me more about vessels." John asked.

_**Now.**_

They reached D.C., and realized their mistake. At least Sam did. "DAMN."

"What?" Dean looked over as they were stopped at a red light.

"I just realized that we're walking into our country's capital and we're on the FBI's most wanted."

Dean set his jaw. "Yup. We're totally screwed. Just remember I tried to warn you."

"We gotta ditch the Impala." Sam said, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.

Dean laughed. "Oh, hell no." He laughed again and shook his head. They drove for a minute or so in silence. Then Dean sighed and pulled over. "Dammit."

They drove out of the city for a little bit, then parked the Impala behind an abandoned convenience store. Sam hotwired an old truck and they moved all their stuff into the cab. "I'm going to call John again."

"If the leviathan got him, then there's no way he's going to answer." Dean griped.

"It sounded like you, Dean. I'm pretty sure it was the leviathan."

"Then why are you even calling him?"

Sam looked at the ground then dialed the number. "I'm just hoping."

The phone rang out. Sam waited patiently for the dial tone. "John, call me if you get this." He shut his phone and got into the truck. "We need some place to find to stay, even just for a few hours. I can track his cell if he still has it with him."

Dean sighed and slid into the drivers seat. "Ok."

* * *

Dean drove for a little while, and Sam stared out the front window. John thought they would've talked more, but they were basically silent. At one point, Dean tried to turn the radio on but some rock song came on, and he upturned his face in disgust and turned it off. Sam elbowed him, and Dean shrugged.

That was the first sign. The next was when John tried texting Sam "tento" (which loosely means test in Latin) and he didn't hear a buzz or a tone. He had literally no idea what was going on, and he realized he was out of his league. His gun couldn't have been brought on the plane, but he needed to try anyway. He could've pulled his Mycroft card out, but the guy in Heathrow had just given him a nod after looking at him closely; the same with the American customs officer. You'd think they'd be a little better than this. Anyway, the gun was in his luggage, which was in the trunk. So that wasn't an option. He had a small thing of salt, but he didn't think that would work. These were a whole new breed of things, John thought. Shape shifters wouldn't have memories, and these things definitely had memories of John.

So he tried asking questions. "What are you?"

"Oh, so you're a hunter, too?" Dean said, looking back slightly in the rear view mirror. "Funny, you don't look it."

"Be nice." Sam replied, giving Dean a look.

"Why?" John asked, looking down at his phone covertly. Sam was calling. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I really am liking the nice kidnapper thing, but, erm, I know you guys wouldn't hesitate to kill a whole room full of people."

"Why would I want to kill you, John? You're my friend." Sam furrowed his brow, but John would tell this monster was just acting.

"I'm Sam's friend." John tested, because he knew the real Sam would probably say, "we never got the chance to be friends."

And this was the final strike. "I am Sam, John."

John stayed silent like before, and slowly typed out three letters in a message. He hoped it was still to Sam, but he wasn't sure. Anyone who got it would know, though. S-O-S.

_**Then.**_

"Usually vessels have to give consent before an angel can possess them. We," Cas was searching for difficult words, "reveal ourselves, and usually humans are overly accepting or not at all. Usually the former."

"That's a lot of usuallys." John snorted.

"There are...ways to get around that, yes, but it's very difficult and unfavorable to the angel." Cas folded his hands, his blue eyes lighting up.

"How do you become a vessel? How do you - how do you even get chosen?"

"It's either in your blood or it's written in the prophecies."

"So your vessel…?"

"That is a long and difficult story, one that I'm not inclined to tell at the moment." Cas said tight lipped.

"What does that mean?" John shook his head.

"My vessel is a special case." Cas looked to the sky. "He's still awake, still talking; complaining."

John furrowed his brow. "But isn't he human, too?"

Cas smiled; it was small, granted, but it was a smile. "He's...well how do you put it... enlightened? He wasn't meant to be human."

_**Now.**_

Sam's phone buzzed as they pulled into the secluded motel. He opened it, and cursed.

"What?" Dean asked as he got out of the truck. Sam showed him. "I know SOS, but what's tento?"

"It's Latin for try or test. I think he's trying to figure out which Sam and Dean are on his side."

"Is he hunting? Jesus, who is this guy, Sam?" Dean dragged a hand across his face, leaning on the hood of the truck. It was covered in grime and dirt, and he drew back after a second, wiping his hand on his jeans in annoyance.

"I honestly don't know." Sam looked at his phone and typed one word. _Navi. _He sent it, hoping John knew enough Latin to translate. "But one things for sure, the leviathan are taking another step."

"Now we just gotta stay ahead of them." Dean sighed, grabbing his bag out of the cab.

"How, Dean?" Sam raised his hands. "We have no idea where they're going to be, and if we go into any remotely populated area we run the risk of being arrested!"

"So do they." Dean replied gruffly. "Come on, you're the one who got us into this mess."

Sam was about to start a fight, but he stopped and picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry, Dean. Let's just work this like a normal job."

"Now you're talking." Dean nodded approvingly.

They quickly paid the motel manager for the least expensive room and tried not to make direct eye contact. Once they were in the dimly lit room, which was underwater themed, Dean threw his bag on the bed closest to the window and sat down.

"So what do we know?"

"About what, the leviathan? Jack-squat." Sam shrugged. He set his backpack down in the table and got out his laptop. "It still doesn't make sense, the towns they hit before coming here. They're entirely random. And maybe we can decapitate them, but it won't last forever. Bobby was adamant about that."

"Which towns again?"

Sam took out a map, which has three towns circled. "Jericho, Blackwater, and Lake Manitoc." Sam frowns at the paper. "Hold on. Jericho...the woman in white, Dean."

Dean furrowed his brow.

"And Blackwater...that was the wendigo." Sam became more deliberate with his markings, putting numbers next to the towns. "Lake Manitoc was the kid in the lake."

"They were hitting towns we've worked jobs in before."

"In order that I left Stanford with you." Sam set the pen down after circling D.C. and drawing a question mark next to it.

"So why would they come to D.C.?" Dean asked. "We've never worked a job in D.C."

Sam was silent.

Dean thought for a minute, then said jokingly, "Surely it couldn't have been just to get to John. Why would they do that, it's stupid."

"Why else, Dean?" Sam looked at Dean from across the room. "They had a visible pattern, almost like they wanted us to find them, and then they just go off across the whole damn country. Why else than if they came up with a different plan?"

Dean blew out a long breath. "Well, then what do we know about this John Watson?"

Sam sighed, trying to remember all those years ago. He didn't like to think about those dark days, but he had to. "He was a soldier in Afghanistan."

Dean nodded and motioned for more. "Come on, what else? He wouldn't have been there if he wasn't a half-demon, so what was his power, or whatever you want to call it?"

"He said something about being able to kill people with his hands, I think." Sam set his jaw. "That's always stuck in my head, because you know most of us couldn't just kill people. Not the ones I knew anyway."

"Hold on, if he can kill people with his bare hands," Dean tried to grasp what Sam was saying, "How come he hasn't killed the leviathan?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe he can only do it under certain conditions. I don't know, Dean."

"Well, you try tracking his cell, I'll call Bobby, see if he's got any other news of our buddy downstairs and then see if I can find anything about this John Watson."

**A/N: I know, mostly boring stuff right now, but we've got to have some dialogue to segway. Be patient with me, loves.**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok readers we need to have a quick little chat.**

**EVEN IF YOU JUST READ THE STORY JUST PLEASE REVIEW IT MAKES MY LIFE PLEASE AND PASS IT ON I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO READ IT!**

**Well that happened. Whoopsies. Seriously though.**

**Oh and one more thing: if you came to this story expecting Destiel and Johnlock, there may be some references, but this is a mostly "clean" story. I like to keep my stories as true to what the writers would've interpreted it as. (Ship DESTIEL so much tho not a hater****️) So, yeah.**

**Happy Reading**

**P.S. - Sorry about the little mishap with the chapter updates, FanFiction did something weird, so you get two updates in one day! YAY! Chapter 4 is soon to come. Also, thanks to my beta for fixing stuff (love you!)**

**Chapter 3**

Lestrade was having a mildly good day. It was mostly quiet down at the Yard, and he'd gotten the chance to make a few important phone calls. He hadn't been looking forward to this one.

He was about to dial when his phone rang. _Ah, barmy, he got to me first. _Greg hesitantly answered. "Mycroft."

"What manages to astound me is that even with Sherlock dead his stupidity has managed to live on in his _friends._" Mycroft had that _I don't want to deal with any of your shit right now _voice.

Greg sighed, rubbing his temple. "You know, then?"

"I knew the second he entered Heathrow. I'm not stupid."

"No, how could you be?" Greg rolled his eyes. Donovan tried to come in but he angrily waved her off.

"Someone needs to go make sure he hasn't gotten himself killed," Mycroft demanded.

"Send one of your people, or better yet, bloody call him. It's not that difficult!" Lestrade started getting jumpy. _I need a cigarette._

"You have no idea how serious this is, Greg."

Lestrade started paying attention when Mycroft actually called him by a name other than Lestrade, and more alarming his actual name. "What do you mean?"

Mycroft was silent for a few moments. "Just forget about it. I'll take care of it."

"Hold on, now!" Lestrade exclaimed, but the dial tone had already sounded. He threw the phone down in frustration and rubbed his nails against his lip.

Donovan peeked her head in. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it," Lestrade replied, then realized that was exactly what Mycroft had just told him. "Honestly, if I told you, you would worry too much, so just please don't ask."

"Well now you've got my attention, Greg!" Donovan exclaimed, placing a hand on her hip.

Lestrade ran his hand through his hair and ignored her for a moment. Then he picked up his mobile and dialed John's number.

* * *

John's phone buzzed, and he cursed in his head and frantically tried to turn it off.

"Do you hear that sound?" Not Dean said, looking over at Not Sam.

Not Sam looked back at John. John played dumb, looking as if he was trying to find out the sound, too. He furrowed his brow in frustration, trying to look as convincing as possible. Not Sam's forehead creased, but turned back towards the front. John managed to turn the phone off in his coat pocket.

"Now it stopped!" Not Dean pulled over onto an exit ramp. Once they were off the highway and into a small town, he pulled over. John prepared to make a run for it if someone opened the door. Not Sam opened his door and came around the other side where John was sitting. John braced himself, and nervously slid his hand down his jeans. Not Dean got out of the car also, taking the keys out of the ignition. Not Dean slid the key into the lock on the side to unlock the door, and looked at John. Then,

His jaw unhooked

And huge teeth and a long tongue flashed out.

John blinked. "Well that's new."

Definitely Not Dean returned to his normal Not Dean appearance and laughed. "Well, Sam, maybe this was a good choice. This could be entertaining."

Not Dean unlocked the car, and Not Sam opened the door. John got out of the car, confused that they weren't blocking his way. Not Dean walked around to the trunk and grabbed John's small suitcase. John took his chance.

While Not Dean's hands were full, John took off away from Not Sam, not looking back. He ran along the sidewalk, his leather coat flapping behind him. He heard some sort of hissing behind him, but he paid it no mind. Fortunately for him, a bus was just about to pull away from the sidewalk a few yards in front of him. He waved his arms frantically and picked up his feet, pushing himself to go even faster. He made it onto the bus, and breathed a huge sigh. "Thanks for waiting, mate." He said, slowly taking out his wallet to pay the driver.

"No problem, John." Not Dean replied, smiling broadly.

John dropped his wallet and threw a punch towards Not Dean, who grabbed his hand. John took his other hand and grabbed Not Dean's arm, picking up his feet and using his momentum to throw Not Dean against the floor. Not Dean's fangs came out. By now, the entire bus was in full on panic mode, with people screaming and a surge to get out via the emergency exit. John drew back, trying not to get his face eaten off. In the process he let go of Not Dean's arm and grabbed the small vial of salt from his inside pocket, and dumping the contents out all over Not Dean's face.

Other than angering him, it did nothing. "Well, shit." John said as Not Dean smiled. Slowly, his skin began to bubble and take shape, and suddenly, John was staring at a perfect image of himself. John growled and Not Dean/John rolled John off his chest and onto the ground, flipping their positions. John tried to jab up at Not Dean's face but he grabbed John's hand.

John immediately felt the bones in his fingers begin to crunch, and he sucked in a sharp breath. At this point John saw what must have been the driver, shoved down by the gas pedals in an unnatural shape and covered in blood. He looked at Not Dean in bewilderment. "What are you?"

Not Dean smirked and turned back into Dean. "We're the leviathan." He whispered, and then let go of John's hand, spinning towards the unsuspecting pedestrians still partially trapped on the bus. Not Sam had come around the bus and blocked all the ways out, and people were screaming, there was so much screaming, and John's ears started screaming and his head was spinning and he pressed his hands into his ears, just praying for the screaming to stop, and his days in Afghanistan were coming back, much stronger than they ever had, and he closed his eyes, trying to shut everything out, and he was falling...

Not Dean advanced towards the people, and a little girl screamed, "Leave us alone!"

John snapped. "Stop." His voice was normal; cool, calm, and collected, yet something about it was so different that it caused Not Dean to stop in his tracks. He turned to face John, and every single person on the bus went silent. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw a teenage girl begin to film on her mobile.

"What did you say?" Not Dean almost laughed.

"I said stop." John looked at the leviathan with his jaw line set, his eyes dark and deadly. His hand clenched, and he wiggled his fingers.

"Or what, John?" Not Dean smiled and spread his hands wide. "I could kill every. Single. Person. In this God forsaken bus. What are you going to do about it? You're just a man, a man who made friends with the wrong people."

John blinked, and suddenly, his eyes were a dark purple, with red rims. His voice hardened and dropped a few octaves, which hardly seemed possible, and said, "I am the Judgement Bringer."

And something incredible happened.

Leviathan Dean stepped back. Leviathan Sam came up the other steps into the bus, and a few people whimpered. Leviathan Sam squinted his eyes. "Well that's new." He pushed Leviathan Dean out of the way, walking up to John and squaring up.

John looked around Leviathan Sam, making eye contact with one of the people still on the bus. "Get out. Now."

Leviathan Dean took out his gun and fired three rounds into the ceiling of the bus, and the people screamed and cowered in the back of the bus. "You don't own this show, buddy."

John moved toward Leviathan Sam, and went to touch him. When his hand connected with leviathan Sam's chest, he fell to the ground in pain, hissing.

John's eyes widened, and suddenly his eyes returned to normal, and his shoulders slumped. He felt a huge wave of exhaustion pass over him, and his knees gave out, his head hitting the floor. His world went black.

* * *

John slowly regained consciousness to the sound of screaming sirens. His whole body ached and protested as he blinked his eyes and forced his limbs to move. He scrambled to his feet, and that's when he saw

the blood.

Every single innocent human being on the bus lay lifeless in the back of the bus. John was moved with compassion and sadness for a single moment, and then white hot rage took over his body. _I will avenge you._ The nearing sirens snapped his attention to the present situation, and he realized the horrible possibilities that could occur if he was found like this. He grabbed his dropped wallet and went to sprint out of the bus, but, _thank God, _he remembered that the girl had been filming the confrontation._ I don't know what happened to me back there, but I can't explain that. _He slowly stepped over the bodies, making sure not to step on anyone. He found her still rosy-cheeked corpse slumped into one of the seats, the mobile gripped in her hand. John quickly pried it from her fingers, apologizing over and over again, and stuck it in his pocket. Then, he ran out of the bus. As soon as his feet hit the ground, John started sprinting as fast as he could, faster than when he and Sherl- faster than when they had chased that cab so long ago. John didn't dare look back as the sirens intensified, and used that happy thought to push himself even harder.

"_**YOU THERE, STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!**_" A voice bellowed into a megaphone, and John cursed. He turned a corner, then ran straight into traffic (stopped, mind you). People in their cars gave him weird looks, and one person even tried to stop him, but John kept his head down and pushed him out of the way. He shouted "Sorry!" behind him, but didn't look back. _They can't see my face, they can't see my face. _John completely crossed the road, and passed a convenience store. Then, he saw it. The woods. John bolted towards them like a deer running from a hunter, his heart racing like a newborn fawn. _Don't worry, your sympathetic system is under control. Just run. _He thought, trying to keep his mind calm and clear.

"_**If you continue to run, you will be an assumed suspect and hostile threat. We will use the necessary force to take you into custody!" **_The police man shouted again, but it was farther away than before. John hit the woods, and continued running, trying to avoid any sticks or branches that would reveal his position. He plummeted through the trees for a good five minutes, and soon the sounds of pursuit faded away. John didn't slow down until he was positive they were gone. He came to a small creek with a low bridge and ducked under it.

John pulled out his phone, his hands surprisingly steady. He thanked America for its somewhat undeveloped forests, then dialed Sam.

It had hardly rung once when he picked up. "John?"

"I got away, I got away." John panted, realizing how out of breath he was and looking around to make sure he was still alone.

"Where are you?" Sam asked.

"I have _no _bloody clue, you're gonna have to track my cell." John replied. He heard a deep voice in the background say _put him on speaker._

There was a soft click, and Dean's voice rang in John's ears. "John, Sam is tracking you now, but we need you to stay on the phone and stay put."

"Yes, I know, Dean! Might not be possible!"

"What does that mean?" Sam asked as Dean simultaneously replied. "How did you get away from the leviathan?"

"They killed so many people." John sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his eyelids, trying to make himself think he didn't want a war, when he really did. Sam started furiously typing (it was that loud) and Dean sighed darkly.

"Shit." Dean said.

"I have to keep moving!" John hissed, thinking he heard a noise.

"Just a few more seconds!" Sam answered hotly. Sam paused. "Are you hiding in someone's backyard?" He asked after a few moments.

"I don't-" John replied furiously, then lowered his voice, "I don't know!" He stomped around the creek bed, just to make sure his trail was lost. "Please just get here!"

"Why?" Dean asked flatly. "If you escaped, they let you go; for a reason, too. They won't be searching for you."

John clenched his jaw. "The police may have seen me running from the scene…" John heard a clunk on the other side of the line, assuming that Dean had either face palmed or broken something. "What was I supposed to do? If I had been found there...I would be locked up so quick you wouldn't have time to say 'I've got myself screwed!'"

"This is the guy, Sam? Really?" Dean goaded.

"Just hold on a second, Dean." Sam sighed. "John, I've tracked you, but you're gonna need to stay somewhere around your current location, otherwise it won't work. Try to go to the nearest road. We're maybe ten minutes out."

"Ok, ok." John scratched the back of his neck. "Thank you, Sam."

"You better tell me what the hell is going on as soon as you get in the car." Sam replied, then hung up.

John looked at the ground, then hung up, tucking the phone safely in his pocket, along with the girl's phone. He knew he should destroy it, so no one could actually see what happened...but he wanted to know. He wanted to see what had happened to him, because it had felt...invigorating.

And maybe, just maybe, Sam would know how to help.

**A/N: I just decided to end it there, sorry ;) hopefully since it's summmmmmeeeerrrrrr updates will be sooner but I've got a pretty busy schedule the first few weeks. I'll try, mishamigos! Until then, r&amp;r!**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I HAVE AN UPDATE! OH YES I DO ITS FOR REAL THIS TIME BITCHES! I don't know why it wouldn't be real though...nevermind i guess I just wanted to say that. HELLO! I'M STILL ALIVE! Sorry, there was much confusion in writing this chapter and making sure there were no grammatical mistakes (sorry about that Chickie). Anyway, this chapter is done! Chapter 5...is not! I got distracted by books and SUMMMMERRRRRRR. So here's this chapter!**

**Thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers, you make my day lovelies.**

**Chapter 4**

_There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm._

_-Willa Cather_

* * *

"Explain to me again why we left him?" Sam asked Dean, wiping the blood from his hands with a paper napkin.

"If he's still unconscious when the police show up, which they will, he'll be taken into custody. That girl was filming the whole thing, so he's thoroughly screwed there. If he wakes up and runs away, he may forget the phone. Better yet, he may not have even seen her filming. What a surprise that'd be." Dean chuckled, keeping his hands on the steering wheel, intentionally smearing the blood. "Anyway, if he does somehow manage to remember the phone, he'll be running from the police. Either way he's screwed."

"And then Sam will come running to help." Sam smiled.

"If he hasn't already." Dean nodded. "And of course, Dean will be with him; they're inseparable. It's pitiful. Anyway, after that we just have to put our plan into action. "

Sam smiled smugly. "I'm going to enjoy every second of this."

* * *

John waited a few minutes before coming out from under the small bridge, which was probably a bad idea in the long run, but he took the luxury of the peace and quiet to clear his head. After that, he ran through the trees, avoiding the person's house he was apparently behind, and made it to a two lane road. He pretended he was out on a jog, tying his jacket around his waist and pulling out his earbuds that he had conveniently left in his inside pocket. He stuck one in his ear, but didn't plug them into his phone, just to be sure he could hear everything. A few minutes of exceedingly slow jogging later, a rusty blue pickup truck pulled up beside him. He continued to jog slowly, and turned his head.

"Do you need a ride?" Sam asked, sticking his arm out the window and resting his elbow on the door frame.

"Yeah, I'd really appreciate that. Thanks! Haven't been in shape recently..." John said, quickly hopping into the backseat. As soon as the door was closed, Dean stepped on the gas.

"Woah, Dean, chill. You're just gonna draw more attention to us." Sam said, looking at Dean's hands gripping the steering wheel.

"Do you realize if this goes south, we are not getting out of this." Dean replied, looking back at John in the rear view mirror. "And it'll be your fault."

"Excuse me? I'm not the one who's got a clone rampaging across the country! How is this my problem?" John exclaimed.

"Alright!" Sam shouted. "Let's not point fingers. This is what they want us to do, get distracted and lose our focus. We can't let that happen. Any of us."

Dean fell silent, looking angrily at the road and clenching his jaw. "If Cas was here this wouldn't be a problem."

John's head shot up. "Cas?!" Dean glanced into the rearview mirror. "As in Castiel?"

Sam turned to John, confusion played across his face. "You know Cas?"

"Yeah, angel boy? Black hair, blue eyes, tall as hell?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "He's not that tall."

John snorted. "Oh, yes of course. How foolish of me. He must look different to you."

"John, how do you know Cas?" Sam asked.

"It's a long story." John sighed.

"We've got all day." Sam replied.

John ran his hand over his mouth. "Where to begin? Well...lets start from when I ran away that first night we met."

* * *

_**Then.**_

"John." Castiel approached him one night, months after he had arrived in Afghanistan. They had grown extremely close over the days, and John had begun to trust Castiel more than he could've ever trusted anyone.

"Yup?" John said through a mouth of stew, looking up at Cas. His face was accented by the flickering flames in front of him. Cas sat down next to him, folding his hands.

"I have to leave."

John looked up, slowly placing the bowl down. "What does that mean?"

"I'm being reassigned."

"I thought you were just using the military as a facade, you don't actually have to-" Cas cut John off.

"Not by the military." Cas sighed, looking into the fire for a second. "I need a new vessel, John. This one...he's strong, but I'm afraid if I stay in him any longer, he'll perish. It's not his time yet, John. His destiny is written in the stars."

John swallowed a lump of meat, hard. "So where are you going?"

"There's a human, who, um, is in the same kind of predicament you once were. Worse, actually. And God saw fit that since I have watched over you...that I should be the one to raise him up."

John tried to grasp what was going on. "And you're going to possess him?"

Cas looked alarmed. "No. If I dared possess him, the consequences would be devastating. He is reserved for another."

John wanted to press on, but Cas didn't seem to want to talk more about it. "So will your vessel remember...all of this?"

Cas shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. He may some day break the barrier and remember what has transpired here, but for now it is in his best interest to forget."

"So anyone who ever knew what happened to me, what happened back then, they'll be gone?"

Cas was silent. "I'm sorry, John."

John stood up, raggedly pinching his nose. "What am I supposed to do, Cas?" He shouted angrily.

"I'm sorry, John, but I have my orders."

"Did you ever think, that maybe just once, the orders aren't the most important thing?!" John exclaimed.

Cas had no response to that. "I leave at dawn." He finally said, standing up. "Goodbye, John. I hope we should see each other again." Cas hesitantly moved his hand out to shake John's.

John shook it after a moment. "Me too."

* * *

_**Now. **_

John talked for a half an hour, maybe even more. He lost track of time, and the more he talked, the easier it got. Until he got to Sherlock.

"Do you know why he…?" Sam asked, seeing John falter.

John shook his head. "It's what we do; well really just him. Consulting detective. Wicked smart, he was, but cold as a rock." John laughed. "Any who, being that smart makes enemies. And add being a cocky arrogant fool to the list...he got in a personal battle with the most dangerous criminal you will ever meet."

Dean snorted.

"Human, anyway." John corrected. "They played a dangerous game...we all did. And Sherlock...Sherlock lost." It was the first time John had admitted it, truly and fully believing it.

"When was this?" Sam asked.

John cleared his throat. "A week ago, maybe two? After the first couple drinks a day it all kind of...blurs together."

Dean looked back at John for a second, a look of understanding on his face.

Sam thought for a second. "That would correlate with Cas…"

"What happened to Cas? Where is he?" John asked, although he already knew deep inside.

Dean took over. "He, um...he made some mistakes. Granted, really, really bad mistakes, but mistakes all the same. I know he regretted them in the end, but it didn't matter. Thing 1 and 2 you met, they're called leviathans. They," Dean coughed, and John pitied him, "they were in his body, hiding and waiting until they could come out and-"

"-destroy him." Sam finished.

Dean looked at Sam, looking half annoyed that he stole the spotlight and half happy that he didn't have to say those fateful words. "They tore him apart from the inside out, and used him to enter this world."

"They're like nothing I've ever seen." John agreed. "Do you have anything that can kill them?"

Sam marveled at how well John had acclimated to the hunter life, and wondered how Cas had known to teach him that. _Who knows how long he's been keeping this vessel game up. Somewhere along the line he must've learned a few things. But then why did he not tell us? _"Not yet." He replied. "But we have someone working on it."

Dean fiddled with the radio, tuning it until he found the news station. "Let's find out how bad it is."

They listened for a few minutes, and sure enough, a voice came on bearing the bad news.

"And if you haven't heard already, the Maryland and Virginia State police along with the FBI have been placed on high alert due to another violent attack. A public transportation bus full of pedestrians was gunned down merely an hour ago, totaling eleven deaths in all. Responding officers and witnesses reported a man fleeing from the scene, wearing a leather jacket and jeans." John sucked in a deep breath, and Sam sighed. The man continued. "Sketch artists have been unable to derive an accurate drawing, however, and the figure remains unknown." John let out his breath, sending a quick thanks to whoever was watching over him. "More disturbingly, the three surviving witnesses report two men confronting the unknown man, who are suspected to be Sam and Dean Winchester. This would be the third attack occurring within the week, but no footage of the incident has emerged, so it cannot be confirmed. If so, this brother duo will be sky rocketing to Number One on the FBI's Most Wanted list within record time. Citizens are strongly advised to be on the watch..." John stopped paying attention after that.

Dean looked slightly confused. "No footage? And live witnesses? That's a change in pattern."

"Like travelling across the country wasn't?" Sam replied, a bit moodily. Dean turned his lips down, contemplating the truth in what Sam had said.

"There is footage..." John said hesitantly.

Sam turned around. "You have it?!"

John pulled the girl's mobile out of his pocket. "Snatched it as I was running out."

"Well don't tell the whole damn world!" Dean answered sarcastically.

"Why did you grab the footage?" Sam asked, turning around as Dean slowed down and reached a small building on the side of the abandoned road. They hadn't seen more than five cars in the last ten minutes, so Dean decided to pull over. "I mean, now they don't know it was our meat sacks, and that's great, but that couldn't have been your only motivation. You could've gotten arrested by waiting that long."

John shook his head. "I don't know; just instinct I guess." He couldn't tell them, not yet. John didn't completely trust them, more really just Dean. He would get Sam alone, later.

Neither of the boys looked convinced, but they didn't press John further, seeing as they had pulled up to the abandoned building. Dean cut the engine and opened the truck door, and Sam and John got out as well. "We can't stay here long. Just long enough to recuperate, get a plan together." Dean said. He looked at Sam. "We'll make a call to Bobby, see if he's had any luck with our friend downstairs."

Sam nodded.

Dean grabbed his bag and walked into the building. Sam grabbed his as well and went to follow Dean. "Sam?" John asked. Sam turned around, and Dean threw a look over his shoulder. "Can I have a word?"

Sam nodded, after looking back at Dean for a single second. Dean walked into the warehouse and Sam walked up to John. "What's up?"

John paused for a second, finding it difficult to form his question. "Um, do you still...you know..." John made an awkward motion with his hands, pointing them at his head.

Sam gave him a weird look. "Your, um, powers. Do you...?" John continued.

Sam crinkled his forehead and frowned. "Am I still psychic?"

John nodded.

Sam's eyes filled with worry and he pursed his lips, shifting his feet. "No, I haven't been for a while now. There was other...stuff, but it's all taken care of."

John's stomach dropped like a stone, but he swallowed and kept his emotions down. "Good, good." He nodded, walking towards where Dean had entered the building.

"John." Sam called after him, but John continued walking. "John?!"

John sighed and stopped, keeping his body turned away from Sam. He took a deep breath and turned to face Sam. "Yes?"

"You still have them, don't you? Your powers?"

John pursed his lips and looked at the ground. After making a quick decision, he looked back up. "No, I just-I haven't seen you in a while, and I didn't know if Azazel...forget about it."

Sam narrowed his eyes for half a second, but then nodded. "Azazel's dead. You've got nothing to worry about." Sam gave him a small smile, then walked into the building. John looked at him, a smug look on his face. He hadn't convinced Sam, but he'd given himself some time to figure out how to break it to him.

* * *

The building was a small warehouse, relatively new, with long tables running the length. It looked like it had only been abandoned a week ago, because there was hardly any dust on any of the surfaces. There was an old tv resting on a side table, with a large old fashioned computer and keyboard. There was even still a Biggerson's (whatever fast food chain that was) cup left deserted next to the screen. Sam parked himself at the table, unpacking his laptop and pushing the cup onto the floor with disgust. Dean had already set his bag on one of the large tables, and complained when Sam knocked the cup over. Sam gave him a look, and Dean shut up, a tight-lipped grin on his face.

As Dean talked on the phone with this Bobby person and Sam listened in, John's phone rang. Dean and Sam gave him a quick glance as John looked down. When John saw who it was, he cursed and shook his head, sighed, then answered it.

"Mycroft."

"Hello, John." Mycroft replied, his tone light and brisk.

"What's going-"

"John, I don't have any time for those kinds of shenanigans, just tell me where you are so I can fix this mess."

John rubbed his nose and exhaled, annoyed with Mycroft for being so nosy. "Lestrade gave me away, didn't he?"

"There's no one to blame here but yourself, John." Mycroft said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. John grunted softly in acknowledgement. "Now, tell me what's happening."

Dean and Sam hung up, and looked at John. "Who is it?" Dean asked.

Apparently he had spoken too loudly. "Please do not tell me that was a Winchester." Mycroft pleaded.

"What was that?" John fake shouted into the phone, rubbing his feet against the gravel floor of the warehouse and holding the phone near his feet. "You're breaking up!"

"John." Mycroft said. "John! Don't hang up on me! Jo-"

John hung up.

Sam gave him a weird look, repeating Dean's question. "Who was that?"

"Bastard from back home, don't worry about it. What did...Bobby say?" John replied, sticking his phone back in his pocket.

"Well, we've got something that'll hurt them at least." Dean said. "Borax. We're gonna desperate housewife these mothers."

John laughed. "Seriously?"

"Other than decapitation that's all we've got that can even hurt them." Sam shrugged.

That hit John hard. _Nothing else? And that won't even kill them? ... Then how was I able to hurt them?_

John must have been staring off into space for a while, because suddenly Dean was centimeters away from his face and snapping his fingers. "Earth to John, is anyone home?"

John blinked. "Sorry."

"What's going on up there?" Dean asked.

"Nothing." John stood up, walking away from the brothers.

Dean gave Sam a look, so as to say, 'Do something!' and Sam raised his eyebrows back at Dean. 'Like what?' He mouthed.

Dean motioned openly, and Sam sighed. "John, look, if you don't tell us what's going on, we can't help you." John stopped. "We're all stuck in this boat now, so that means we have to work together. We're gonna need all the help we can get to kill these sons of bitches."

There was silence for a minute as John thought about what Sam had said. "Dammit." He cursed softly, then turned around, his eyes soft. He pulled out the girl's phone and stared at it.

Sam leaned forward and looked at John. He played with it in his hands for a minute, his lips pursed. Then, after thinking it through, John nodded slowly and quickly handed the mobile to Sam.

Sam took it, and fiddled around with the small device until he found the video. He was just about to play it when Dean's phone rang. Dean sighed and picked it up, turning it on speaker phone. "Bobby?"

"Do you fellas have a television? You need to see this." Bobby sounded dry and run thin.

Sam looked at the old TV set and shrugged. Dean somehow got the power to the building running (they must not have disconnected the line yet) and the screen slowly flickered to life. "What channel?"

"Which one do you think, idjit?" Bobby replied sarcastically.

John snorted, and Sam cocked his head, muttering under his breath, "National News it is." As the image slowly came into focus, John's heart skipped a beat.

The little girl whose mobile John had grabbed was shown being strapped into a stretcher and rushed into a helicopter. A voice over played as the footage looped. "We had finished examining the scene and were starting to...um...clear the scene, and she just woke up. We all thought she was dead, and she sure as hell looked like it." The image changed to a woman sitting tensely behind a huge desk, her arm propped up on its flat surface. "A responding officer reported that as twelve-year old Marissa Landauer was rushed to the hospital, she was able to speak a few words, the most outstanding: 'The man with the purple and red eyes-the man took my phone. He didn't mean for it to happen.' Marissa wasn't able to give any more information before she fell unconscious. Police are awaiting her recovery so as to learn more about the tragic events that occurred inside bus A12, but one thing's for certain; this mysterious man is no doubt our unknown escapee. More to come after the break."

John was completely silent. _She's alive. She's __**alive**__. _

Sam looked at the phone in his hands. "This is it, isn't it?"

John nodded, staring at the mobile.

Dean stood up. "Send the video to your phone." Sam did so, confirmed that the message had sent, and reluctantly passed the phone to Dean. Dean took it, looked at it for a second, shrugged, then violently threw it against the wall in a burst of strength. It shattered, electronic bits flying all around, causing Sam to cover his head. John didn't move, just stared at the shattered pieces laying on the ground.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice can through the speaker, and Dean picked up the phone.

"We are so screwed."

**A/N: That's all I've got for now guys. I will try and finish Chapter 5 soon! In the mean time, please Read &amp; Review! Spread the story! Don't let your dreams be dreams! JUST DO IT!**


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